


Run To You

by Ambros



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers for S02E12, all the feels, post 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 16:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: - Nobody can love a monster.





	Run To You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a very small reaction-fic, I guess?, to last night's episode :)  
> Title is from Run to You by Lea Michele!  
> Please, let me know what you think :)

He's a fixer, you know he is. It's both necessity and duty to him, he needs to be fixing something, some _one_ , because it makes him feel better, like he's in control.

You don't know how to tell him _not this time. Not me._ Because he is stubborn and he won't go, because Alec doesn't know surrender. He's trying to figure it out, you can tell by the way he's rubbing his forehead, but you hope – yes, you _hope_ he won't figure it out, because there's just this _horror_ , right beneath your skin, there are these _memories_ , behind your eyes, but they feel like nightmares and you don't want him to see them. You just – don't, _can't_ let him _see_. You, _you_ don't want to see them ever again, and _he_ , he could never – he'd stop. You know he would. Loving you. He'd stop loving you because he might have said it, but that doesn't – it doesn't mean anything.

Nobody can love a monster.

-Magnus.-

He's speaking with a soft voice that doesn't belong to him, not yet.

You are so overwhelmingly grateful for this boy, this beautiful boy.

-Please, tell me what to do,- he says, again, he's so desperately trying to find a way, but you feel hollow. You don't know how to tell him, because that would mean – _showing_ him. Everything you are and everything you aren't. Everything you've ever done. You don't think he could ever love you if he knew you were born out of death, _nobody can love a monster_.

He doesn't touch you, because Alec doesn't fully understand forgiveness.

You think it's because he's never been forgiven.

He thinks it's not within his rights to reach out, let his fingers slip between yours – you think it could save you. You think it might be enough.

But he wouldn't know and it wouldn't be fair – he would never willingly touch a monster.

And you don't even know where your skin is, it feels wrong wrapped around your muscles, it feels uncomfortable, like an ill fitting piece of clothing, and you feel tired, like life has taken too much from you.

-Do you want to take a shower?- he whispers, and you think he might be whispering because his voice would break if he wasn't. The hole inside your chest fills with sadness. He _knows_. He must know because he's Alec.

You don't want him to love you. Right now, you don't want him to love you.

You say: -You can go home,- voice as low as his, and you don't look at him. You don't think you can. What if he saw?

He kneels in front of you, so ridiculously tall that he can look you in the eyes, and he still doesn't touch you, and he feels like peace.

-Don't push me away,- he says, soft and broken and raw, your own words against you – no, not _against_ you. _For_ you. And you think _but if you knew_.

He's looking for something inside your eyes, but you don't know if he finds it or not. -I'm sorry,- he apologizes like it's his fault, like he was the one holding the stele, like he's responsible for every nightmare that's ever haunted you, -I – _I love you_ ,- he says, and he uses it like it's proof, like it's supposed to heal, like he trusts it to work when nothing else will. Like he's calling you back from where you're trapped inside your head.

-Nobody can love a monster,- you say. And you look at him because you want him to understand. It's not – the love he feels is still so unscathed and unbroken, you could destroy it if you lay a finger on it.

There are – there are tears in his eyes. They're not running down his skin, and you don't – understand, this is not – you don't understand.

He says: -I love you.-

His voice is paper thin because of the tears in his throat, _I love you_ , like it's proof, the _I_ isn't quite there because his voice is so broken, _I love you_ , adamant, the silent _if_ , _if I love you, you can't be right. If I love you, you can't be a monster._

-You don't know what I did,- you say, no oxygen left in your lungs.

-You helped me,- he says, like he expected you to say that, -and Jace, and Clary, and Luke, and Jocelyn, and Raphael, and Camille. And I love _you_ ,- he's so impossibly close and still he doesn't touch you, -I could never hate you for something others did to you.-

There are tears on your lips when you kiss, his hands tender on your cheeks and his hair soft between your fingers.

If Alec Lightwood can love a monster, then maybe you don't mind being one _._

  


  


  



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